


Scars

by Cantique



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluffy as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull likes scars. They tell a story. He also likes asses. They don't really tell a story, but they're nice to look at. And grab. Yeah. Scars and butts. And also tits. | Fluffy stuff. Really light sex but nothing uber explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> WRITING ON PAINKILLERS 420 SHIP IT

"Kadan, has anyone ever told you how good you are to look at?"  
  
The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, shifting to rest her head on the pillow, kicking the now loose ropes from around her ankles. She was sleepy now. She often was after they were done. All she wanted was for him to lay down with her so she could curl up against him and drift off. "You do. All the time."  
  
"No," Bull protested as he watched her. He sat beside her on the bed, his back against the headboard. "I don't mean telling you that you have great tits."  
  
"Then what do you mean?"  
  
She watched his eyes as they moved down from her face, almost able to feel them on her skin. "You're so pale."  
  
Snorting, the Inquisitor leaned up on her elbow. "I'm aware of that, thank you."  
  
"Don't get me wrong," He smoothed down the back of her hair -- which was a mess. "I like it. Means it's easier to leave those red hand prints on you." He paused to exhale, releasing a low growl that made her stomach tense in the best way possible. "But when you're like this..." His hand reached out, and his fingers traced her form from her shoulder down to the curve of her waist, and all the way down to her mid-thigh. "All glossy, in candlelight? You look like marble." A smirk appeared on his face when his fingers came to one of the scars on her legs. "And _these_ ," he growled, grabbing her by the waist suddenly and effortlessly picking her up, bringing her on top of his, legs either side with her hands resting on his chest. "These are like... I don't know. But they're _good_." She gave a laugh as he craned his neck to get a better look. "Where did you _get_ this?"  
  
She took a peek herself, jogging her memory. "Adamant Fortress," she finally replied. "Put myself between Dorian and a terror demon."  
  
He scoffed, glancing up at her face. "He won't crumble if he takes a hit, Kadan."  
  
"Neither will Cole," she didn't miss a beat, a knowing smile on her face. She expected Bull to retort, or roll his eyes, but he didn't. Instead, his hand traveled to her upper arm.  
  
"This?" He asked, his fingers running over a small, light scar. It had been there for a while, by the looks of it.  
  
"I was seven," she laughed with a smile. "Took a corner too fast and ran into one of mother's glassware cabinets. She was furious with me."  
  
"And _this_?" He asked, his free hand moving to the curve where her thigh and behind met.  
  
She gave a hearty laugh at this one, squirming a little against him. "One of the other Ostwick Apprentices and I started a prank war," she explained. "She _covered_ my seat in ice just before I sat down, but she wasn't very good at the spell yet, so the whole seat shattered. Spent the next week in the infirmary with a red face and a bandage on my rear."  
  
His fingers glided to her collarbone now, where one of her larger scars sat. A clear, dark line up to her shoulder, stretched and taut at the edges, as though it were seared. He didn't ask this time. She knew what he'd ask. "When the rebellions began," she began, the laughter gone from her voice, "we were fighting off the Templars. He did that... flaming sword thing. Whatever that is."  
  
"You killed him for it, right?" He asked.  
  
"Took a week to get his melted skin off my robes."  
  
He gave a chuckle, brushing some of her hair behind her ear, a grin across his face. "Don't talk like that, Kadan," he joked. "You know that gets me going." His fingers trailed up her back now, pausing. "What about these?" Bull asked. She had a few on her back, they were her most prominent, running deep and crisscrossing over eachother.  
  
She fell silent, her arms dropping. The silence lasted for long enough that Bull suspected she might not tell him. Eventually, though, she spoke. "When they took me to the Circle, I never really gave up on trying to escape," she remembered. "I was caught, of course. Every time. But at the most, the Head Enchanter would just lock me in supervised isolation for a few weeks."  
  
"Supervised isolation?" He asked, causing her to blink. It wasn't often that Bull asked her questions, he seemed to either know everything or figure it out. "I don't know much about what happened in the Circles, Kadan. You'll need to explain."  
  
"Not many do unless they're a Templar or a Mage." She gave a shrug. "They had set rooms for it, just a bed, a desk and books. Usually you'd spend a week in there studying the Chant of Light or writing some kind of essay about how 'magic is to serve' or something. I spent a lot of time in there, as you can imagine."  
  
He gave a nod. "Yet they never decided to make you Tranquil."  
  
She shook her head. "I was far too young for that. The Grand Enchanter just saw it as a child causing trouble. He thought I'd grow out of it. And then when I was sixteen, we got a new Knight-Commander. I was caught trying to escape again, but he refused to let the Grand Enchanter handle it. He took me into the his quarters and gave me 40 lashings." Bull could feel her shoulders and back tense as she spoke. "He said if I did it again, he'd have me made Tranquil. I didn't try again after that."  
  
"40 lashings?" Bull repeated, his voice deepening. "That explains the severity. I thought you'd just had a weird sex accident or something." He lied, of course. He knew marks from a flogging when he saw them, especially with his training. But he'd wanted her to open up to him, and she needed him to fall back on. She'd never been one for blind sympathy -- they were alike in that way. "Know if he's still alive?"  
  
She gave a shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. I didn't see him when we were escaping. Why?"  
  
"Because I'd like to kill him," he said, rolling his eye and smirking, "is that not obvious?"  
  
The Inquisitor laughed. "You can't kill him, Bull, because if we ever find him, _I'll_ be doing it."  
  
"Ok, how about this," he chuckled, his hands encircling her waist and lowering her chest until it was against his. "I break his bones and you do that cool lightening thing you do. The one that makes people twitch around even after they're dead."  
  
"It was years ago, Bull."  
  
"You're one of mine now," he explained. "No one hurts my people. Not even retrospectively."  
  
She gave a smile, tracing her finger over the outline of one of his tattoos. "One day you're going to leap to fight so quickly that you'll lose the _other_ eye."  
  
Chuckling, he attempted to smooth down her hair again. "I only lose an eye if it's worth it -- and Krem was worth it."  
  
"He's a good one," she agreed. "I'd give my _own_ eye if it meant I could keep him for the Inquisition."  
  
"You probably wouldn't have to give him that much, to be honest," a smirk spread across his face. "Don't tell him I told you this, but Krem's always had a little bit of a crush on you."  
  
The Inquisitor gave a spluttered and shocked laugh. "Really?" She asked. "Me?"  
  
"Have you ever actually looked in a mirror, Kadan?" He asked. "When a woman like you shows up and starts blowing apart Venitori, it.." he paused and let out another low growl. "...Does things."  
  
"And yet you still decided to have sex with me?" She asked, an eyebrow raised. "That wasn't awkward?"  
  
"Eh, not until he found out, and he got over it pretty quickly. Besides," he shifted beneath her. "Krem's a grown-ass man. If he wanted you as badly as I did, he would have done something about it instead of just checking out your ass every time you turned around."  
  
"And do I get a say in this?" She asked with a smirk. "Because there's nothing stopping me from inviting _him_ up to my quarters next time."  
  
"Yes there is," she was only teasing, and Bull knew that, but he wasn't about to let it slide. He took a fist of her hair and tugged, not hard enough to yank her head back, but firm enough to make his point. "Don't think I won't tie you down to this bed, Kadan. Because I will." She grinned, putting her palms to his chest to try and lift herself -- but he was too fast and she wasn't trying that hard anyway. Grabbing her by the waist, he pushed her down on to her side and against the bed, before rolling her on to her back and pinning her down. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're pretty."  
  
She could feel him against her, as ready for another round as she was. It was late. It was so late that she needed to be sleeping because she had so much to do tomorrow. But she liked it better this way, when they could spend an entire night with eachother and not having to worry about anything else but remembering her word.  _Katoh_. She rarely said it now. He knew her limits and she trusted him so deeply that it was hardly necessary – and the times where they didn't need any ropes or hair-pulling or what they'd started with had grown more and more commonplace since they'd closed the breach.  
  
“You really think I'm pretty?” She asked, a wide smile flourishing from her lips, searching his face. She wasn't a Ben-Hassrath or anything, but she knew him. Or at least she told herself that, anyway. She was rarely wrong anymore.  
  
His hands on her wrists loosened, drifting downwards to gently cup her face. The smile he gave her still, after all this time, nearly took the breath out of her. There was a softness in it, one she knew few others ever really saw. It became quite apparent, very quickly, that there'd be no need for rope this time. He carefully kissed her, a hand running down her neck to slip behind her and lift her closer to him as he took her, the Inquisitor giving a gasp in response, her breath quivering against him.  
  
He shook his head once her eyes opened again. “Not pretty,” he said, studying her face, the way her skin flushed and her lips parted. “Beautiful.” He paused, a smirk taking her by surprise. “...For a human, anyway.”  
  
The Inquisitor took a moment to register this, but when she did, she playfully threw her palm against his chest. “You idio-- aah!” She whimpered against him as he deliberately pushed into her, effectively stealing her breath from her.  
  
Bull did think she was beautiful, more than any woman of any race he'd ever known. But he'd keep that to himself for now. That was something better saved for later. Like when he _really_ screwed up and she was throwing things at him.  
  
Or when he knew she really needed to hear it.  
  
Or whenever the moonlight hit her.  



End file.
